


Roommates

by TrillianSwan



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Arielle just moved in to the Mosaic yesterday, Domestic Fluff, Eliot & Ari are ride or die best friends, F/M, Mosaic, Q & El are ex-lovers but friends now, Q/Ari are a couple, Queliot Week 2019, but you don't have to read that for this, called TELL MAMA, even though I hope you will!, negotiating how to live together, part of a larger work, this is also going to be posted as Chapter 24 of Tell Mama when I get that far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:18:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrillianSwan/pseuds/TrillianSwan
Summary: Arielle tries to help our dumb boys learn to talk directly by negotiating chores at the Mosaic. It has mixed results. And there is singing.For the neighbors/roommates prompt of Queliot Week 2019.





	Roommates

“Just tell him!” Arielle said, beyond annoyed that this not-fight was ruining their first morning after she’d moved into the Mosaic. “Quit telling  _ me  _ about it and talk to  _ him.” _

“He won’t listen! He’ll make up some excuse as to why he’s right and he should get to do whatever, and in the end I’ll just end up letting him keep on because I’m tired of him talking.” Quentin blew on his tea to cool it, pulling his arm back from around her shoulders on the bench.

“Because you don’t make it clear that you’re serious! Honestly, Q, I don’t know how you’ve lived together this long.”

“Mostly by letting him do whatever he wants or finally having a fight about it! You don’t know, Ari, you just got here. Just wait.”

“Eliot!” Arielle called out to the open door of the house. “Could you not sing before we have our morning tea?”

“As you wish, Buttercup!” Eliot called back from the hearth.

“See?” Arielle smiled smugly into her mug.

“Oh sure, for  _ you,” _ Quentin sneered. “You two are  _ ride or die, _ right? And sing only when given permission?”

“You try, then.”

“Fine. Eliot,” he called out, “Could you, um,” he hesitated, as the singing request had now been handled, “could you not wait until you’ve run out of clothes to give me your laundry?”

Eliot came out of the house, frowning, wooden spoon in hand. “What is this, Pick On Eliot Day?”

“You see!” Quentin exclaimed, then dropped his voice into a scowl.  _ “It only. works. for you.” _ He tucked a foot up on the bench and sucked on his tea.

“I’m trying to teach Quentin to be more direct, that’s all. Ask for what he wants, and not be so wishy-washy about it,” Arielle said.

“Well, have him practice on you, then,” Eliot growled, going back to the door. “I’m trying to cook the team breakfast in here.”

Quentin glared an  _ I told you so _ look at Arielle, who stuck out her tongue. 

“Look, there’s an example,” she said. “He wanted to make breakfast because he couldn’t wait to try out the new hearth. So I listened, and let him.”

“Let him have his way, you mean,” Quentin said, rolling his eyes. “I thought that’s what you were telling me  _ not _ to do.”

“But I wasn’t-- look. If I had said, ‘Eliot, what I really want is to cook breakfast on my first day living in my new home,’ then we could have had a  _ real _ conversation, about what we  _ really  _ wanted. And I bet, if I felt that way  _ and told him so directly, _ that he would have figured that trumped what he wanted and he would be fine waiting until lunch.”

Quentin shuddered. “Please don’t use that word.”

“Lunch?”

“Trump. Makes me sick. There was a guy with that last name, when we left home he-- nevermind. He’s a very bad guy. We can’t even say it as an unrelated verb, and especially don’t let Eliot hear you say it. Just-- um, overcome. What you wanted would have  _ overcome  _ what he wanted.”

Arielle was thoroughly confused by this tangent, but let it go. “Okay, fine. That. What you said, there. And anyway, this hypothetical talk with Eliot would have been a talk about how we  _ feel, _ and not just a fight about breakfast. Do you see what I mean?”

“Yeah…” Quentin sighed. “Talking about how we  _ feel  _ is not really a skill El and I have. Like, ever.”

“I know,” Arielle said, and grew quiet. She knew quite a bit about the time they were lovers, bits and pieces from each man making a mosaic of her own. She was missing many of the tiles, but the picture was fairly clear. It didn’t seem like they had been on the same page about their erstwhile romance-- though they still loved each other and often said so-- and Eliot not being honest about his fears had a lot to do with that. Perhaps she was talking to the wrong member of Team Queliot.

But Quentin was just as bad-- always putting off what he wanted for Eliot, always assuming Eliot’s reasons were better than his, in the end, even if he fought him on it briefly. Eliot came first, always. And some of that was endearing, like the way he would drop whatever he was doing when he spotted Eliot’s neglected eyeglasses to wordlessly slip them into Eliot’s hand or pocket or bedside table if Eliot was out, never remarking on his need for them or badgering him about losing them again. Or filling a tub for him so it was ready when he came home from his weekly shift at the tavern. But some of it wasn’t, like letting Eliot sing into his face (as was his latest fancy) before he had any caffeine in his system, and letting the resentment grow with each passing morning until he started complaining savagely to Arielle.  _ This singing thing was about two days from Q punching him in the face, _ she thought. 

“Okay, I have to tell you, I now have Mel Torme in my head and I am simply  _ dying  _ trying to keep it in,” Eliot said as he brought out plates, and nodded at them to come over to the table. “Breakfast, chickens.”

Quentin grumbled something Arielle couldn’t hear, but they both made their way to the table. 

“The biscuits aren’t  _ close _ to yours, dear,” Eliot said to Arielle, giving her a peck on the cheek. “This new hearth is going to take some getting used to.”

After a few more trips into the house to bring out everything, Eliot settled down to eat with them.

“It’s good, El, thanks. I’ll have to show you my biscuit trick. Aunt Essie had her ways. Now, we should talk,” Arielle went on, “about how I can help around here, the chores and such.”

“Oh, Ari, you don’t have to do anything, you have your business still,” Quentin said. “And it’s not like we brought you here to cook and clean for us.”

“Q’s right,” Eliot added. “We eschew heteronormative traditions here at the Mosaic. You still have breakfast duty after today, that’s enough.”

“Nonsense. I live here, I clean here. I want to at least help. You two could maybe even do a fifth puzzle a day if I helped out with the other stuff.”

“Gee thanks, after all we’ve done to get you here,” Eliot scoffed, “it leads to more puzzling.  _ Hooray!”  _ he added in a mock-cheer.

“Now watch, Q,” Arielle said, and turned to Eliot. “What I want, in my heart, is to feel like I’m helping the team. And to feel like no one has to clean up after me. Is there something I can do around here to make me feel that way?”

Eliot considered. “The thing is, we do a lot of it with magic. Like cleaning our clothes, for example. We use the line to dry them, sure, but we wash them with a spell. Or rather, Quentin does. Dusting, putting things away, sweeping, raking the yard, chopping wood, we do it all with spells. Asking you to do it would just mean making it take twice as long for you to do. We’d have to watch you struggling to do something we could do much easier.”

“So my feeling better would make you feel worse.” Arielle pressed him.

“Heart of the Team, Q, she’s all about the _feels,"_  he muttered. “Yes, I would feel worse. Q would too, he’d always be jumping up to help you.”

“But, if I did something and you didn’t see it, like if I swept out the house while you were working on the puzzle and not paying attention, that would be okay?”

“I mean, I guess?” Eliot shrugged. “Would you be happy stealth-cleaning? I don’t know how to do feels.”

“I just mean, you wouldn’t be  _ mad _ if I did. If something just occurred to me to do, and I did it without checking with anyone, and you found out later, you’d be okay with it?”

“Yes? Is this some sort of trap?” Eliot said, eyes narrowing.

“No, silly. I just want to know what the boundaries are.”

“Okay, fine, here,” Eliot said with his Team Leader voice. “You cook breakfast. You look for simple things to do-- nothing that would make you break a sweat because that is surely something we should be doing with magic-- as much as you feel like. You take care of your peaches and plums business. We do the rest as usual. And if we find one of our chores already done, then I guess it’s Miller Time. I mean, an extra break. Deal?”

“Deal. As long as you tell me right away if you feel like I’m not pulling my weight. If you don’t say anything, I’m going to assume you’re happy. Deal?”

“Deal,” Eliot shrugged.

Arielle looked squarely at Quentin,  _ and that’s how it’s done. _ He rolled his eyes back at her,  _ for you, maybe _ .

_ Team Queliot is going to need some more work,  _ she thought.  _ A long-term project. Just what I need to feel useful.  _ She smiled at them both and finished her breakfast.

When they were done eating, Eliot checked the teapot conspicuously, and confirming it was empty, said to Quentin with a grin, “Can I let ol’ Mel out now? He’s so bored in here.”

Quentin shrugged, but Arielle could tell he was feeling less grumpy with a stomach full of tea and breakfast. Eliot accepted this as permission, as well.

  
_ “Sing for your supper and you'll get breakfast! Songbirds always eat,”  _ he broke out as they all cleared the table. “ _ If their song is sweeeet to hear! Sing for your luncheon and you'll get dinner! Dine with wine of choice, If romance is iiin your voice! I heard from wise canary, trilling makes a fellow willing, so little swallow, swallow now!”  _ He bumped Quentin with his hip as he passed him, smirking with the double entendre, making Quentin laugh despite himself.  _ “Now is the time to sing for your supper and you'll get breakfast, Songbirds are not dumb, They don't buy a cruuumb... of bread tis said, so sing, just sing, lalalalalalalalalalalala, and you'll be fed!” _

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Mel Torme's Sing for Your Supper. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJfHNBDIJlE
> 
> As I said in the tags, this will be chapter 24 of Tell Mama, after I finish 22 & 23\. Just couldn't help myself, since the prompt fit right where I was in the story, pretty much. Come over and read Tell Mama if you like this! Tavern's always open, for you.


End file.
